And This Song of Mine
by Solstice Zero
Summary: Gwen and Ianto go holiday shopping. Going up a little late, obviously. Ianto Gwen friendship.


Christmas gift for LJ user pocky_slash that I totally forgot to put up here. Sorry about that. Better late than never?

* * *

He found her in currys*digital, frowning down at a row of iPods, clearly deciding whether she wanted Rhys to get her the pink one (cute, girly) or the black one (badass, fitting with the secret agent thing).

"Do you know how difficult it is to shake Jack off of a trail?" he asked, and she turned, surprised. "I had to play at Bond for a few minutes there."

She grinned. "You loved it. Ducking behind bins."

"Try fitting the tracker in my mobile to a dog." He waved away the frown that appeared immediately at that. "I'll find it when we're finished. Shall we?" He held out an arm to her, and she took it, her hands still in her white cotton gloves. He smiled at them, standing out against the red of her coat (the one she wore when they weren't running through the woods, hurtling down alleyways, tackling monsters in the mud) and the black of his. Two normal people in St David's Dewi Sant, Christmas shopping. They stepped out of the electronics store and Ianto looked up and down in either direction. "Where to?"

Gwen sighed. "Rhys wants a new set of pots. I think he's mad. It's far too practical a gift for a man his age."

Ianto smirked. _Practical._ Gwen had attempted to make a curry one night in his flat, a gift for watching theirs when they were gone to Paris for the weekend. It had resulted in three ruined pans, a broken fire extinguisher and a charge to Torchwood for new kitchen drapes. Ianto was not surprised at all that Rhys wanted new pots. Could Gwen even cook Ramen noodles without incident? "Where were you planning on getting them?"

"I was thinking Debenhams," she said, and started off to the left.

Ianto stopped her, frowning. "How about John Lewis?"

She turned, brow raised. "But Debenhams is closer." She pointed behind her. "Right out those doors."

He shook his head. "I've done some business with them for the butler's pantry at the Hub. Terrible service."

Her eyebrows knit together. "I've shopped there before. They were lovely to me."

"Nonetheless," he said, and smiled easily, "why don't we go to John Lewis? They're having better sales on homeware, anyway."

She shrugged, giving in. "All right." She turned to the right rather than the left, her arm still looped through his. "Good thing I wore sensible shoes, if you're going to pull me about the place bargain hunting."

It was strange, he knew, but the lie sat better this way.

He let Gwen lead him through the shopping centre, watching the groups of people move about and around each other, as though choreographed. She spoke, about Rhys, about his parents visiting for Christmas, his mother already annoying her just through the phone about sleeping arrangements, is she certain they shouldn't get a hotel room, their flat was rather small, Rhys would hurt his back on the pullout. He listened, letting the words flow through his head, blended with the Christmas music from the speakers set high along the walls over the shop doors, Frank Sinatra singing in three quarter time.

She stopped him before the entrance to Tredegar Street, her free hand reaching for his shoulder. "Are you all right, Ianto?"

He blinked at her. "I'm fine," he said. He smiled. "Ladies first." He held the door open for her.

He followed her into John Lewis, frowning at the gaudy decorations in the department store. They never knew the right level of 'festive' in places like this. It was either too sparse or too crowded, hung with lights and boxes and oversized bulbs that must have been hell for the employees to set up, to no good end. Gwen laughed at the look on his face. "You're a Scrooge, you are."

"I'm not," he said. "It's just that I've taste. And sense."

"You've a heart three sizes too small."

He smirked. "That's the Grinch."

"You're also a know-it-all." She went off down the aisles of the homeware section.

He laughed, following. "I know everything. I can't help it."

"Sure you can," she said, scanning the names of brands in an aisle where pots were hung from hooks on the wall above boxes. "A few hits to the skull and you'll forget a little, at least."

She would never be able to pick a good brand. "That one," he said, pointing at a Teflon-coated set.

She frowned, taking the box down from the shelf. "I thought this stuff gave you cancer."

"Everything gives you cancer, eventually." When she looked at him, he smirked. "No, it doesn't give you cancer. And it's difficult to burn things to the bottom of it. Rhys will appreciate the precaution." She had to shift the box to smack his shoulder, so he had a second to step away, laughing. "Are you ready?"

She sighed, checking the price on the shelf. "Sure," she said, and started back toward the clerks. At the end of the aisle, the line came into view. "Oh, hell," she said, her face falling. "This is going to take forever."

"It's the holiday season," Ianto half-sang. She smirked over her shoulder at him.

"I'll do this. You have other shopping to do, for Mica and David, right? Go to the Disney store. I'll meet you there."

He frowned at her. "Are you certain?"

She grinned. "I can entertain myself, Ianto. Go and say hello to Mickey Mouse for me."

He smiled and gave her a little salute, then was gone.

- - -

He was fairly certain that Mica still liked Belle. The last time he had seen her, she'd made him sit and watch _Beauty and the Beast_ twice through. He avoided clothes, having no idea how big she was now (a fact which pinged at the back of his mind as _not a good thing_), and instead settled on makeup sets and tiny perfume bottles. A tea set with Mrs. Pots and Chip. Dolls of the characters and a backdrop to use with them. He set his purchases on the counter and thought about what he'd have to get for David (he'd go to Gamestation and pick up a racing game; all boys like racing games, hell, Ianto liked racing games) and then he saw her at the front of the store.

Gwen was leaning against the rounded pillar at the entrance, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes on a little girl (maybe two years old, and if that barely) playing with an oversized stuffed Pooh bear. It was twice the girl's height, and she held onto either of its arms, standing between its splayed legs and giggling as she pulled it around her, making Pooh hug her, his everpresent open-mouthed smile mussing her short, dark hair. And Gwen's face was entirely, hopelessly sad, watching the little girl play with the bear, watching her tiny hands clutch at its fur.

Ianto's heart ached a little at the sight.

He paid for his purchases and walked over to her, jostling her out of her thoughts with a hand on her arm. He smiled softly. "Let's get some coffee."

- - -

He took her to Starbucks, wishing in vain for Costa, but Starbucks was closer, and he knew they had the seasonal drink Gwen liked, the thing with absolutely no coffee at all in it, blended with ice and chocolate and peppermint, the thing whose name was almost painful to say when he ordered it _venti_ at the counter, along with his espresso. He settled next to her at a table by the window, letting his gaze follow hers to the people milling outside.

"We can't have one," she said.

He nodded. "I know."

"It's too dangerous. There's too much that can go wrong."

He wrapped his hands around the cup before him, soaking up the heat. "I know."

She looked down at her drink and started playing in the whipped cream with her green straw. "I still really want one, though."

He smiled very slightly. "I know." He looked out of the window again. "Do you want to know how many aliens I've seen today?"

She looked up at him, a cautious smile at the corners of her mouth. "My guess would be 'none'."

He shook his head. "Forty. Last count." Someone walked by the window, and Ianto tipped a finger at the glass. "Forty-one."

Her jaw dropped. "Forty-one aliens? _Shopping?"_

He shrugged. "They need Christmas gifts, too. They're rehabilitated. Humanoid, enough to get by. We check up on them from time to time."

She grinned. "You mean _you _check up on them."

He looked down at his cup, playing with the cardboard ring around the outside. "One of my jobs. Every few months I drop in to see how they're doing."

She shook her head, lifting her drink to sip from the straw. (It was one of the random things that he liked about Gwen; she didn't lean down to drink. She sat straight and brought it to her. Like she wasn't taught table manners by bears.) She set it down again. "I don't know how we'd get on without you, Ianto. You really do know everything."

He grinned. "You'd get on all right. Jack can be taught." He took a sip of his drink, and caught her expression over the lid. His brow furrowed. "What?"

She smiled. "What are you getting Jack for Christmas?"

He set his coffee down. "Nothing."

She frowned, her entire face falling with the sudden change of expression. "Why not?"

He laughed. "What do you buy for the man who has everything and lives forever? Anything I got him would be ridiculous."

She looked thoughtful, tilting her head to the side, considering his point. "He probably got you something."

He shrugged. "If he did, then he did. I'm not going to worry about it."

"So when he surprises you on Christmas morning with something beautiful, you're going to turn around and tell him, 'sorry, you'll live too long for whatever I give you to be worth anything'?"

Ianto's eyebrows rose and he sat back slightly. Gwen's eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, Ianto. I didn't think--"

"It's fine," he said. He cleared his throat, playing again with the cardboard ring. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

She reached across the table and stilled his hand with her own. "Really," she said. Her voice forced his eyes to meet hers. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

He shook his head. He moved his eyes to track the movement of the baristas behind the counter. He said quietly, "That doesn't make it any less true."

"Ianto." She said it softly, just a statement, standing by itself.

He turned his hand over and ran his thumb over her palm, watching the progression of his own skin over hers, the lines there, telling her future. He sighed. "I'll buy him something."

She smiled, finally, like clouds breaking. "What, do you think?"

"I don't know," he said. "Something that will last a long time."

Her fingers tapped against his. "We don't have long before he starts to look for you in earnest."

"Let's move on, then," he said, and stood up, collecting his bags as Gwen collected hers. She looked at him as she straightened up, and he smiled. "So what are you getting me?"

She laughed. "You'll have to wait and find out, won't you?"

"We'll probably get a call at midnight on Christmas anyway. Another Christmas invasion."

"Well, we'll be prepared," she said. She held up her bag. "I've got my pots and pans."

He grinned. "I've got dolls. We'll save the world before the kids wake up for presents."

She nodded. "Just as it should be. Right?"

"Right." He smiled as she went past him. "Just as it should be."


End file.
